Inmates
by TragicGuardian
Summary: Several people from The Avengers are in prison together in this AU fic. They aren't in just any prison though, here they get to move about, get more privileges. But that only leads to more drama and more problems. AU, non-con, violence , swearing, M/M. *Having seen Oz or even knowing about it isn't important to reading this fic*
1. I: New Meat

A/N:

**You do not need to have seen or even heard of Oz in order to read/understand this fic!**

_ Ok so this is sort of my attempt at an Avengers/Oz crossover. The difference is, there are no Oz characters in this fic. Only the setting and the way things work are similar to Oz. If you've never seen Oz that's fine, I will try to explain some aspects of the prison and how it's different through out the fic, though it wouldn't hurt to read up on the jail and especially Em City (special part of the jail), where this fic is based._

_I'm putting this chapter out there to sort of gauge people's reactions, I want to see if anyone would be interested in an AU crossover like this at all. So any reviews/suggestions/follows/etc. Would be nice and very helpful in my decision._

_As for this being AU, basically it doesn't coincide with Avengers or really any of the movies. Not on a whole at least. This fic is more of a reality version of them all. i.e. Loki and Thor aren't gods and have no special powers. Clint and Natasha aren't assassins. Tony doesn't have an Iron Man suit (though he does have an arc reactor, since that is similar to something in real life that would keep someone alive, like a pacemaker) but he was rich and powerful at one point, and had a personal digital assistant called Jarvis. So basically things like that are tweaked._

_Pretty much all characters will be showing up in the fic, I just don't want to add/reveal them all at once. I wouldn't say this fic is more about any certain character though some may play a bigger part in the fic than others (just like in Oz)._

_Anyways, I think that is all. Thank you for looking, I hope you read and enjoy, and we will all see if there will be more to this story._

* * *

"It's been five years already, huh Jarvis?" A pale hand came up to a watch around a wrist. The clock face was in a strange position, resting on the underside of his left wrist instead of on top like most people wore it. But this was how he liked to wear it, and always had. Pressing a button, a short, sharp electronic beep was emitted. Tony let out a scoff. "Look at me, talking to a wristwatch." The words came out hushed and he could only smile to himself. The man couldn't help it if he missed that hunk of junk AI. But of course, Tony could never let Jarvis know that. No, then he'd never hear the end of it. As amusing as it may have been to pretend his cheap watch was, in fact, Jarvis (albeit a, well, less advanced model), it also saddened him to no end. He'd never hear his voice again and it was all his fault. The same reason why he'd never have his own tower again either.

"Stark." The familiar voice made Tony come out from under his thoughts.

He turned to look to the entrance of the pod from his place sitting upon the bottom bunk. "Time to fetch your new roommate." The voice came from none other than Phil Coulson, the manager for this 'special' section of the prison. In fact, Em City was his whole idea to start. He'd briefed Tony several days ago about being somewhat of a host to a new inmate. This sort of thing always happened when new prisoners came in, but it wasn't very often that they were granted entrance to Em City. Tony had personally never hosted any newcomers, but this time around he was both willing to do so and was deemed fit enough to do so by the higher-ups. He would have to show the new prisoner how it worked here in Em City, for the most part. Standing up, Tony made his way out of the pod and, accompanied by Coulson, headed to where he needed to be.

As Tony approached the small, gated-in area he noticed the fresh prisoners were already there, sitting upon benches with handcuffs holding them fast. Officer Selvig started to give the typical speech of the general rules of Em City and what was to be expected of them there. Stark tuned it out as he scanned the men on the benches on the other side of the white bars between them. Having already been in the dump for five years he knew how things worked there. Six new inmates sat inside the room, spread out between two benches. Most of them were fidgeting slightly while slowly and cautiously glancing about from beneath their brows. As Selvig finished up his talk, Tony entertained himself with guessing who his new podmate may be. There was a bald man who was on the shorter side from the looks of it but was also rather muscular. Next to him sat a blonde who appeared to be acting somewhat strange, gazing off into space, hands perfectly even in their placement atop his knees. The gate separating the new prisoners from their experienced hosts started to clank open as Tony visually examined another man in the sitting lineup. He was a brunette with blue eyes and a slightly furrowed brow. Definitely the look of someone who didn't want to be here. But was there ever a person that _wanted_to be imprisoned?

"Prisoner Number Twelve-B-Seven-Five-Eight, you are with Stark."

Tony shifted his stance, senses perking at his name being mentioned. When the called man rose Tony noticed he appeared even shorter than he, which somehow made him feel better. It was in fact the man he was last looking at that had risen, the brunette.

"Name's Tony." He said as the man approached.

He handed him his newcomer's bundle consisting of a sheet, pillow, and roll of toilet paper. Tony turned and started to walk away from the area, new roommate in tow.

"Clint.." The man mumbled behind him.

The man leading the way almost came to making a remark about the quietness of the man's voice, or maybe even about his name, but decided against it and kept on his way.

On the way to their pod they passed through the common area on the first floor. Other inmates peered at Clint as they walked by, commenting amongst themselves in their little groups.

"Eh, Tony's got a new bitch." One man said, loud enough for both of them to hear.

Stark didn't seem to react at all as he started up the staircase. Clint said nothing back but caught a glance in their general direction to see a few of them smirking. Just as they got to the second floor a guard called out for a count to be made. This happened a couple times a day and one extra time when new prisoners were getting situated as they were now. Tony leisurely ambled to the front of his pod, lining up next to all the others as they fell in line from their places scattered about Em City. Clint was a few steps behind, a wave of awkwardness overcoming him as he still held his linens and toiletries, unsure if he should go put them down first or just hold them there while he followed suite and stood in the lineup. Seeing a few others still making their way to the line up, he made a decision and turned to the pod behind him and Tony, making his way inside. There wasn't anywhere to put his things except the bed. Once he placed them there he turned back around to face the door and nearly jumped as his name was shouted.

"Barton! Get your ass out here!" An angered guard was standing out in front of the prisoners, right near where he had just been standing.

When the hell had they started taking roll call? Well, this was just his luck. Now attentive, Clint hurried back out to his place in line, the guard staring him down the whole time. His number was repeated once more before the man side-stepped, going down the line to repeat more prisoner numbers. Clint turned to find Tony already gone, along with all the others to his right. _'Oh great...way to start off your time here.' _The man thought to himself bitterly. Turning on his heel he headed back into the pod behind him. At least he could get situated and try to relax now.

"Hey faggot, you lost?" A tall, heavily-inked man stood by the sink, arms folded.

Well, that certainly wasn't Tony. It was then he realized he was in the wrong cell. He felt like an idiot, especially seeing that the walls to the pods were see-through. To be fair, there _was_a bright glare when looking from the outside in. Barton stood there a moment, looking more annoyed than scared, at least at the moment. Letting out a breath, he said nothing, eyes leaving the man as he started for his things on the bottom bed. Before he could get to them the larger man took a single step towards the bed and toppled Clint's things over onto the floor with a swipe of his arm. "I asked you a question. What you doin' in my pod?" The man, who stood at a good six feet or so, took a step forward to step between Clint and his belongings. Barton stopped, pure annoyance on his features as he glanced up at the man.

"Just le-" He started to speak but was abruptly interrupted.

"Goose, he's with me, cut the shit." Tony was in the doorway to the pod looking casual with one hand up on the doorframe.

Clint turned to view him before looking back to the man before him. A strange look appeared on the taller man's face as he eyed Tony. They seemed as though they were having some sort of secret conversation solely through subtle facial expressions and eye movements. There was certainly something Stark had over the guy because soon enough Goose stepped back and glared down at Clint. "Move your fuckin' ass, huh?" The male felt a bit better now, as if Tony had his back. Though in a place like this, that wasn't always a good thing. He cautiously gathered his things from the floor, watching the bigger man from the corner of his vision as he did so, before turning and leaving the pod, Tony moving out of the way as he did so. Clint watched him stop and give the man in the cell what he assumed was one last look, which he couldn't see, before turning and moving away. This time the newcomer waited to watch which pod his host went into before he headed into another one. When he did, Clint followed and was glad to see no one else in there. His dark-haired cellmate was at the sink, looking in the mirror and scratching at something on his face. At this point all he wanted to do was lie down and not think of anything. Facing the bunk beds he started lowering his things onto the bottom bunk.

"Hey, no no no. That's mine, you're up top, pal." Came Tony's voice.

He was glancing at Clint through the reflection in the mirror. _'Christ, can I catch a break anytime soon?' _A rash of heat washed over him, both from rising anger and slight embarrassment. Tossing his things, for what he hoped would be the final time, atop the higher bunk he proceeded to climb up after them. With a dull thud he rolled himself over on top of the unmade mattress and stared at the ceiling above him. He had so many questions running through his mind but he purposefully tried to ignore them, opting rather to just blank out and rest. But he wasn't even sure if he would be able to rest in this place, at least not with the doors open to everyone like they were right now. Even if they were locked, he wasn't sure if he could trust this Tony fellow he was celled with. The man had barely spoke and what was that whole situation with him and the prisoner next pod over? Who knows what the guy had done to get in here. Nevertheless, Clint proceeded to close his eyes. _'Just a moment's rest..'_He promised himself. He wasn't very good at keeping these kind of promises.

"So, Cliff was it? What were you innocent of to land yourself in here?" Tony quipped, now combing his hair at the sink as he glanced up to catch a view of Barton in the mirror's reflection.

No answer came from the younger male, but it didn't bother him much and he went back to grooming himself, whistling quietly as he did so. On the top bunk Clint lie there motionless having drifted off into a light rest. It wasn't exactly by choice, but there was nothing he could do now. He'd get used to the schedule of Em City soon enough. In the meantime, he'd only have to focus on surviving.


	2. II: Destiny Tabs

**A/N: Enter Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers ^ ^**

* * *

It was time for the second and last meal of the day. Meals in a cafeteria were always a terrible situation for someone new, whether they were in a school, prison, or any other institution. That is, unless you had friends in the place. This was the case with Prisoner Number One-Zero-P-Four-Zero-One; Thor Odinson. A biker back on the outside he was now serving eleven years for manslaughter. Apparently he didn't know his own strength when he got into a fight with that guy in the bar. He had nine years to go, and was up for parole in another three. For a man of his stature and presence he was a surprisingly down-to-earth guy, preventing or stopping several fights rather than starting them since he got to Oz. When he got here two years ago, he already knew some people inside and instantly had a place of his own. Most weren't so lucky.

Sitting at one of the long tables in the cafeteria, Thor mindlessly dug into the food upon his plate. It wasn't the best food, but it also wasn't bad enough that he wouldn't eat it. Members of the 'biker group' of Oz sat around him chatting amongst themselves. His attention was divided from his meal only when there was commotion from the man across from him. Looking up, he saw his new podmate standing there. The man had blonde hair, though it was much darker than his own light locks, and also shorter. In fact, it was stylied in a military fashion. From what Thor had gathered, the man was dishonerably discharged from the military for something, and that's why he was here.

"No place for you here." A biker spat at the man.

Apparently he'd asked to see if he could sit with them. The others must have wondered why the seemingly out-of-place man would even want to sit with them, but Thor knew. The dark-blonde, Steve Rogers was his name, was his new cellmate. Thor had only been in the joint two years but it was still enough to be elected as a host inmate. Truth be told he didn't mind hosting the guy, it wasn't a big deal. Rogers glanced at Odinson before ambling off with his tray, presumably to find a place he could sit. Looking back to his mates he tried to gauge their reactions but they only went on with their previous conversations. It didn't bother him that they denied Rogers, that sort of thing happened every now and then when new inmates came in looking for a place to sit.

* * *

Rogers felt terrible; physically, mentally, emotionally, and just about every other way one could feel awful. It was school all over again, with no place to sit and no one to be with. The knot in his stomach tightened as he left the table his new podmate had been seated at. _Why didn't Thor say anything? He acted as if he'd never seen me._ The thought made him feel even worse. He'd have to find someplace to sit, it wasn't as if he could sit in the bathroom or wander outside instead like he did so often back in school. Though it made him uncomfortable, he tried to discreetly eye the other groups at the tables, trying to see if any seemed somewhat inviting. He was either completely ignored or given back dirty looks. Eventually, but not soon enough it seemed, someone welcomed him in.

"Greetings. New here are you? Don't mind the others. Come sit." A dark-brown haired man spoke up as Steve started by them. Stopping, he was startled at first. Was it some sort of trick? Everyone else had been so rude, though it was expected, and this man was rather welcoming out of nowhere. Well, he really had no choice did he?

"Yeah. And thanks, I appreciate it." Steve said somewhat timidly as he placed his tray down and sat beside the man. A couple others that seemed to be there with him gave him a look, but they weren't ones of contempt.

"Christ would do the same. Are you a follower of his ways too?" The man asked, returning to his food as he awaited and answer. Steve looked down and prodded at his own meal a bit before coming up with an answer.

"Well, I am religious but I'm not interested in being in any sort of cult here or anything." He peered up at them, trying to figure out their intentions. A true religious group in a prison seemed rather sketchy. He figured them to be the kind that only turned to God in dark times such as these. Though perhaps there was a chance they were normal and that he, therefore, had a place in this madness. He was no faith fanatic, but chances were slim he'd find anyone else to relate to in the slightest in here. Here where he didn't belong in the first place.

"We are not a cult. Merely a group that is dedicated to representing the good word and being leaders for all." The man said, starting with a quiet chuckle. "Name's John by the way." Steve offered them his name as he peered at them before looking down at the food before him again, noticing he hadn't touched a thing. Leaders? Well, he considered himself a leader too.

_Maybe things won't be so bad after all._

If only he knew how wrong he was.

* * *

Dull grey invaded Clint's vision as he opened his eyes. A strange feeling washed over him but only lasted until he finally realized where he was. For a moment he'd managed to forget where he was when he woke up. But the busy chatter outside the door along with the not-so-pleasant smell in the room reminded him well enough that he was in Oswald State Correctional Facility. Turning on his side he saw no one in the small room, which he should probably be grateful for. Deciding he'd have time to sleep later, plenty of time, he shifted with a groan. Slowly he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and hopped down only to be surprised by a voice.

"Well good morning sleeping beauty." Came Tony's voice from the bottom bunk. He was lying along the mattress on his side, head propped up with one hand. _Is it really morning? _The somewhat irrational thought went through his head, but in his defense he was rather groggy.

"How long was I out?" Fatigue could be heard in his voice as he brought a hand to the back of his head and turned towards the sink. Behind his back Tony looked away from his magazine to respond.

"Twenty minutes?" It came out more like a question rather than a solid answer. It was then Clint noticed there weren't any clocks around. Maybe it was a good thing else he'd probably find himself constantly watching the hands move, seconds ticking by. At the sink he splashed his face with water, waking him up some more. In the reflection of the mirror above he saw part of the common area downstairs behind him. _Well, I have to venture out there eventually…_

Clint wasn't the biggest people person. Yeah, he'd get along with others, but if he had a choice he'd rather do most things on his own. Things were different here though, and he wasn't sure he could get by on his own. Stepping out of the pod, he stopped to observe everything before him. Nearly everyone was in a group, whether of two, three, or more. They were cluttered around the small tables below, sitting in front of the television that was set in the wall, or maybe standing here on the second floor leaning over the barrier and watching the others below. Starting down the steps he found himself to be moving aimlessly with no destination in mind. He walked by the television set but found the only way to hear it was through special headphones. Beyond that he saw some bodies moving about under the staircase, up to no good no doubt.

"Hey boy, see something you like over there?" Before Clint could realize it, a man came up from somewhere behind him to stand by his side, an overbearing hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Alarmed, he swatted the hand away and turned to look at who it belong to.

"What's your problem?!" He blurted out before he'd even seen the stranger's face. It was Goose, the guy that was next door to his and Tony's pod. But Clint's expression didn't falter, he only narrowed his eyes and waited for his next move. To his surprise the man only laughed, though it sounded overly fake. The larger man brought a hand up to rest on Clint's shoulders, dangerously close to his neck. He gave no response to the question as he started moving forward, nudging Clint with him.

"I've got to show you something, kid." The younger male was reluctant to move. Quickly he calculated his risks. If he refused to go, there was nothing the guy could do. Clint could see at least two correctional officers from where he stood, though they didn't exactly have the best vantage point. Before he could take his leave from the man he felt something press against the back of his neck. The bastard had hidden something in his hand that was now resting on the back of Barton's neck. Something sharp was there, hidden underneath Goose's finger and resting against the smaller man's neck. Well, he had no choice now. With a shaky sigh he stopped resisting and stepped along with Goose. "That's a good boy." He whispered. It nearly made him cringe hearing those words as he was escorted to the spot under the stairs he'd been observing just before. _Are they going to kill me?_ The horrid thought ran through his mind.

"Come on, ease up. I'll give you something to take the edge off." Goose smirked, the others noticed the newcomer but hardly paying attention to him. The older man adjusted his hold on Barton's neck, makeshift weapon still threatening his skin. Clint's heart raced, mind spinning, wondering what they wanted. He didn't have much time to think though before the man holding him took something in his free hand. "Open your mouth." Goose said, rather nonchalantly. Barton was taken aback. What did he want him to do? Unfortunately, he hadn't much choice. Just as he started to grudgingly comply, the man tightened his grip around his neck. Clint nearly choked as his windpipe was threatened. Something was placed on his tongue and he closed his mouth, the tab already dissolving on his tongue. _'Drugs, he gave me drugs.'_ Dread filled his insides and the grip on his neck was released. He heard a laugh, but as he turned his head to see who it came from he noticed the things around him were in some sort of slow motion. _'They're taking effect, I-I need to get out of here.'_ Not thinking, the brunette broke out from the small circle under the steps and headed into the common area with a quick pace. _'No, not too fast, they'll know.'_ Panic was taking over but just before it peaked a strange calm came over him. Now he didn't bother to look over his shoulder and didn't check to see if the guards were looking at him suspiciously. No, he didn't care, and he liked that. Somehow he found himself at the top of the stairs, one hand clasping the railing. He was finding it harder to keep on two feet , but luckily his pod was in sight. Reluctantly he let go of the railing and took a step. There was another blank between then and now as he stood at the entrance to his room. It seemed to take forever as he turned to look at the bottom bunk. Tony was lying there, neck stretched out as he looked over his shoulder at Clint. It looked like his mouth was moving but the younger male heard nothing. He went to take a step in but, as if he were in some sort of strange dream, he never felt the ground under his next footfall and started falling down. He could feel the blow as his body hit the hard ground, but it didn't hurt. Turning himself over onto his back he peered off with half-lidded eyes. The dark outline of someone standing over him, Stark maybe, obscured his vision as he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully the story should pick up after this, just had to introduce the characters, Oz, and Em City in first before I could start with everything. **


	3. III: Path-Crossing

**[Characters: Steve Rogers, Clint Barton. **

**Rating: M for violence, implied non-con/rape] **

**Inmates – Chapter 3**

The time in the cafeteria was over now and the inmates were leaving to go back to their appointed sections of Oz, that is except for the ones on the kitchen crew who were to stay back and clean things up. Steve was headed back to Em City and was somewhat surprised, and maybe a little glad too, to find that a couple of the guys he'd sat with were housed there also, including John. This whole place seemed to give off an aura that made him feel just downright uncomfortable. He knew he could hold his own for he was no stranger to the gym. But maybe it was because he had always believed in going down the 'right road' and had done so himself. Well, that is until he acted stupidly and landed himself in here. Was it so wrong though? He just hadn't been thinking and went in over his head. He was a natural leader, and he couldn't seem to help the fact. Coming out of his thoughts he found himself to be standing by the door to his pod. Well, some quiet time could do him some good. Besides, he'd rather not go out of his way to meet any of the people here, ones he'd never relate to.

Stepping in the pod he found himself alone. _All the better... _He wasn't sure how that Odinson guy felt towards him at this point. At first he seemed pretty decent, but now...he wasn't so sure. Things were different here, though, and that was something he'd have to get used to. Now that he was in his room, he started having second thoughts about it. He couldn't just hole up in his pod for the rest of his time here. The gym came across his mind and he sighed, heading back out of the cell. He could only hope the gym here had decent commodities. Though it usually was about all the prisoners had to do, so what prison wouldn't have a decent one? Since it was sectioned off elsewhere he had to get passed through a few doors by the guards. Once he got there he wasn't displeased with what he saw. There was a section with several weight benches and punching bags. On the other side was a good-sized basketball court. Finding an empty bench he stood by it and did some warm-up stretches first. Setting up the weights he loaded one-hundred fifty pounds on each side without a second thought and lied down on the bench. As he started to lift the bar and press he was reminded of those prison scenes from the movies where some guy would come over and drop the bar on the guy's neck or chest to kill him. Steve scoffed. Well, they'd have a hard time doing it to him. Here in the gym he felt somewhat relieved, somewhat at home.

It had been almost an hour and Steve was just about done here. It had been a good uninterrupted workout, but he was definitely ready for a shower. He'd seen them back in Em City, so at least there was a lesser chance of someone else being there since it wasn't open to the whole prison. As he left the gym area, he saw Thor straddling a bench, obviously just having finished a set. He didn't seem to notice him as he slipped out, and he found himself being glad for it. First stopping by his pod to pick up a clean set of clothes and his soap he then headed to the shower room. It was your typical communal-type of washroom. Against the back of the room behind a half-wall were about ten shower heads. Nothing divided them of course, and the front of the room had a clear wall like so much of the rest of Em City. The half-wall at least left the people showering some dignity from the eyes outside the room, but to each other everything would be there to be seen. It unsettled him somewhat, the thought of showering with other men. But he had no choice, and could only hope he was alone when he got there.

It was turning out to be Steve's lucky day because when he arrived at the showers he saw no one inside. Now he only needed to be quick and he'd be all set. Setting down his clothes on a table on the other side of the short divider he stepped onto the still-wet tiles under the shower heads and stripped, tossing his dirty clothes over by his clean ones. Turning the water on he waited a moment before stepping under it, though it didn't get very warm at all. He let his hair soak through as he closed his eyes, the water hitting his head and blocking out the sounds coming from outside the room. It almost made him forget he was standing naked under the cool water in a prison.

"What're you doin' here all by yourself, pretty?" A voice startled Steve from his rather calm state. He nearly jumped as he simultaneously looked over to his right and covered his groin. This just made the man laugh. "Don't worry, not like I ain't ever seen one before." Rogers noticed there was a small space between the man's front teeth, and it was only after that he realized he was nude too, though it was expected being in the shower and all. But did he really need to take the shower head right next to him? Never mind speaking to him too and apparently looking him over. Steve's brows furrowed a bit as he shifted his weight and looked back to the wall in front of him, staying quiet as he reluctantly moved his hand from his crotch back up to help finish washing himself.

"Don't be shy now, what's your name? Whatcha in here for? Or you innocent like everyone else?" The man went on. Steve could see from the corner of his vision that the man was looking over at him as he lathered up, a grin on his face. Steve stayed silent, beginning to rinse the soap off his body, trying to cut his shower short so he could leave. The unnamed man only stepped closer, facing him, only half under his own stream of water now. "Name's Royal." He had one hand running fingers through his dark-brown hair and the other hand held out to the other man in greeting.

"Why don't you leave me alone, _Royal_." Steve said, glaring at the man from the corner of his vision. Usually he wasn't negative towards people, even if they seemed to deserve it. But this situation was different. This man was acting strange and he didn't like it. A scowl came across Royal's face as he brought his hand back by his side and took a step back under his shower head.

"I'm only trying to be nice here, fella." The scowl disappeared and was replaced by a slight smirk. "Boy like you is gonna need some protection. Physical strength ain't everything around here you know." He was slowly washing himself under the stream of water, but most of his attention was on Rogers, even if he wasn't quite looking his way. "What do you say? Me and my boys can take you under our wing and protect you. We don't ask much in return." Royal looked over to see Steve turning the water off. He then swiftly took his towel up and wrapped it around his lower half, not bothering to dry his face or dripping hair. On the other side of the half-wall he started to dress, the task proving difficult as the dry clothing was hard to get on over still-wet skin. Royal watched on over his shoulder, amusement in his expression. Steve was quick to leave once he'd dressed himself enough, stepping out through the open door, heading in the direction of the cells. Royal chuckled to himself as he turned his own shower head off and slicked back his hair. Wrapping a towel around his lower half, he went to stand in the doorway and watched Rogers as he disappeared into his pod. _'Soon enough...'_

It was a similar scene to Clint as he finally came to. He was opening his eyes and once more he didn't know how long he'd been out, and he didn't know where he was. But this time he'd never been in the place he lied before. Letting his head fall to the side, his vision blurred. After a moment or two it was clear once more and he was able to survey his surroundings. It looked like he was in some sort of hospital. Just as the thought occurred to him, a woman in a nurse's outfit came to stand by his bed.

"Awake now, are we? Barton, i'm Nurse Potts, i've been taking care of you." The woman glanced at a paper on her clipboard, not looking overly exciting to be taking care of the man. Then again, she had to deal with prisoners all day. It probably wasn't the easiest job either, considering, well, that she was a nice-looking woman in a building full of deprived prisoners. "If you're feeling okay, there's someone that would like to speak with you." Clint blinked a couple times and figured it was no use lying to try to stay here longer. If there was nothing wrong with him, it would be pretty obvious. Besides, he'd always been a bad liar.

"Yeah, i'm fine. Who wants to talk?" The nurse didn't need to respond as a man stepped up next to her, someone he had already met.

"Hello Barton. I'll have to say i'm disappointed." Coulson gave Nurse Potts a look and with that she went off to attend to others.

"Huh? Wha-...how did I get here anyways?" Now that it occurred to him, he wasn't sure how he ended up in the infirmary. But where had he been before? He couldn't remember that either. It didn't feel like he was injured anywhere. He maybe felt a bit tired was all.

"Well that's what we need to talk about. As you know, he don't tolerate drugs in Em City. If you want to stay there and have the added benefits, then you can't be doing such things." Coulson shifted slightly, raising a brow as he watched Clint.

"Drugs? I haven't done any drugs!" There was a bit of an attitude in his tone of voice as he protested. '_Why would he think I would do something like that? Though...wait a minute. That guy Goose! That asshole, I remember now. He forced something onto me, I must have passed out.' _Clint rose in the bed, covers tumbling down to his waist. "I didn't do shit, that Goose asshole did something to me!" As soon as the words slipped out, he bit his tongue. _'Shit shit shit, what did I just do? He can't find out I ratted on him or i'm fucked. Me and my big damned mouth. Don't worry, no way he can find out. It's alright.' _Coulson gave a sigh and Clint wasn't sure if he had even believed him or not. At this point, he just wanted it to be lights out so he could crawl into bed. It dawned on him that he had missed the meal in the cafeteria, having passed out before his group got called down.

"I know you're a new kid here, but you'd better smarten up. There's plenty of others wishing they could be in Em City, so don't blow your chance, or i'll be talking to you again." He spoke with an air of authority, staying there a moment before moving away, presumably off to other duties. Clint was grateful to be given something to eat there in the small hospital wing before he was to be brought back to Em City. He was glad to have merely received a slap on the wrist for what happened, but it was never his fault to begin with. What else was he to have done though? The guy was bigger than him, had friends around, _and_ had some sort of weapon with him. He had no choice.

Clint was let through a door separating the medical wing from the rest of the prison. The guard pointed him down the long dimly-lit hallway. Shouldn't he have walked along with him? Well, he _was_ from Em City, so perhaps he was given leniency for that. He noted that there was only a couple doors lining the entire hallway. _Long hallway for such few doors..._ At the end he met a tall, brown-haired guard standing in front of the door. Stopping in front of him, he waited to be brought through. But instead, he only stood there a moment, silent. Barton gave a strange look.

"Are you going to let me through or what?" He figured it had been long enough, and had the right to be agitated. Once this was said, the guard finally looked down at him before turning around to face the door. After a couple of mechanical clicks the door was pushed open. But as Clint took a step towards the opening the guard slipped past the open door to the other side and continued to close it before the other male could make a move. It was quickly locked and the guard turned around to face away from the prisoner and the door. "What the fuck.." Clint tried the door anyways but it didn't budge. In his confusion he didn't notice another door quietly swinging open behind him. As he turned around he found himself staring at three men, one of them having a familiar face.

"Fancy seeing you here, boy." Goose muttered through a haunting grin. Clint's stomach sank. It was a set up. _How the fuck did he find out? He wasn't there, I know he wasn't._ Panic shot through the man as his body tensed up. One of the guys that flanked Goose was shorter with buzzed hair, but seemed pretty tough. The other was as tall as the main man, but a bit scrawnier. Either way, they were all bigger than Barton. _Size isn't everything..._ he reassured himself. Though it may not have seemed it, the man could hold his own. He only saw their underestimating him as an advantage, one he didn't think he needed either way.

"What's going on here?" Clint swallowed, managing to speak without his voice wavering.

"Don't play dumb, shithead. You ratted Goose out, and he don't like rats." The shorter man said sternly. Clint wanted to look behind him, see if the guard was still there, if the door was open, but he didn't dare turn his back to these three. Besides, he knew it was only wishful thinking. The guard was in on it, and that door wouldn't open until Goose said so.

"I didn't say shit." He wanted to say more but couldn't think of what else to say. The scene in the hospital wing flashed through his mind again. Sure, he was lying, but it was worth a shot, right? Barton shifted his weight to his other leg. As he did this the shorter man, followed by the skinnier man, went up to the younger prisoner and each took him by an arm. Clint grunted as he was shoved back against the metal door. He still held his composure, only getting angrier as he refused to struggle back. Goose's expression faltered a split second before the grin was back. He slowly stepped towards Clint and looked down upon him.

"You're a bad liar, you know that?" There was a certain smoothness in his voice despite his rough look. Clint didn't like the look he was being given either. He took in a pained breath as the two men held him in their harsh grips. "Know what this means, don't you?" Clint looked at him with hidden wariness. "Means you owe me a favor." Goose smirked and gave a quick wink. Barton's senses heightened and he inhaled. The larger man in front of him brought his hand down to the groin of his own jeans and cupped his package. A growling chuckle escaped his mouth and Clint decided he had had enough of it. The man eyed the taller male in front of him and in a quick movement spat in his face. Goose cringed, jaw muscles tense with frustration. The saliva slid down over his one closed eye and continued down his cheek before his mouth cracked open once more, showing a grin lined with crooked teeth. "Alright, let's go." Goose seemed to say to no one in particular. He simultaneously turned on his heel and wiped the saliva away with the back of his wrist as one of the other men grabbed Clint by the back of the neck. The other man tightening his grip on the brunette's arm, his other hand going around to grab onto the back of the male's waistband to pull him along.

Clint lashed out with his free arm, only to receive a tighter grip around his neck, the hand having moved to the side of his throat, partially crushing down on his windpipe. He pushed the heels of his shoes down onto the floor like a stubborn mule, receiving a swift knee to the leg in response. He stumbled, almost falling down as he sputtered, finding it hard to breath with the man's grip around his neck. Time seemed to stand still, but in reality it had only been seconds. With Goose leading, the two men dragged and pulled the struggling prisoner along until they pushed through an open door into a room. Well, large closet was more like it. Once inside, Goose pulled the door closed and crossed his arms, watching the three.

Clint was thrown into the corner where an old dingy shower built into the room was. He crashed down on the cement, the old curtain pulling down from a few rings. Barton gasped for breath a good moment before reaching out to his sides to push himself up, groaning from the blow. The shortest of the three men went over to him and took him with both hands, shoving him over onto the floor of the shower. Clint was recuperated enough to swipe at him, a look of anger on his face as his nails sunk into the man's arm. This only caused the male hovering over him to bring down his boot down on Barton's hip. He yelped in pain. The skinnier man came over and reached an arm around the lip of the wall to where the shower controls where. With a creak the knob turned and water bubbled at the high shower head a short moment before spraying down in an uneven stream onto Clint. He pushed back against the wall but was still being soaked.

"See what happens?! See what happens Barton?!" The shorter man by his side shouted maniacally, ending with a laugh as he grasped onto the man's hair, brown tendrils sticking up through his clenched fingers.

"Fuck you!" Barton shouted, cold water spraying from his mouth as he did so. In a swift movement he forced himself about halfway up, using the wall against his back as support. Face twisted in a scowl he blindsided the man standing next to him with a punch to the jaw. The man stumbled back, letting go of Barton's hair (as well as taking a few brown strands with him) as he held his hand to his sore jaw. The skinnier, taller man stepped forward and grabbed at Clint, who, even half-blinded by the water, attempted to ward him off. The man got hold of one shoulder, his other hand defending against the hits Barton was weakly getting in. The cold, wet man was growing tired from the events already. It didn't help that he had already needed a good rest before he had even run into the three. Panting, and squinting through the drops of still-cold water that rushed towards him, he felt himself being pushed to the wet tiles again. It was easily done, as he could hardly find the energy to resist. The shorter man he had punched now stepped over, anger evident across his face. Before he could act, Goose stepped over, sternly dismissing the two. Barton felt the grip on him loosen and disappear. He then glanced up at the solitary man standing over him.

There was a strange expression on his face, one he wouldn't have thought to be there right now. It was something like humorlessness mixed with desire. He expected him to start talking, but he didn't say a word as he stood there staring down. Barton felt an odd sensation of relief, one which he knew would only last for the moment. Through the distorted fall of water he saw something move towards him.

When Clint came to, he felt a heaviness in his chest. His arms were out to his sides and he realized he was lying face down (still in the cold shower stall, no less). At least the water had stopped running. He turned his head and suddenly felt the soreness on the side of his face that had been pressed down. What had happened? Once again, he didn't know how long he'd been out. In fact, he hadn't realized he'd been knocked out until just now as he woke from consciousness. As this happened, the feeling of not being alone slowly crept into him, the feeling tightening his throat and chest as if snakes had constricted around him. Frozen at first, he shifted to rise himself from the floor but was stopped by a sudden pressure on his lower-back. Panic clutched him, digging it's claws in. He heard a grunt behind him, and suddenly felt the hand leave his back. But as soon as it left, a heavier pressure came down upon him, this time pinning down his hips and upper legs. Clint let out a pained breath as he turned his head more to catch a glimpse of the person. He could only see a blurred image from this peripheral vision but it was enough to recognize Goose.

"W-Wha...get off me..." His voice came out weaker than expected as he started to become dizzy. The only remedy was to place his head down, which he did. Cool water on the tiles threatened to creep into his mouth as he inhaled deeply. Dull pain coursed through him from the second he woke up, and it was only getting worse. A cold draft passed over his backside as he felt his shirt get pushed up roughly, and then... Clint struggled to pull a leg out from under the attacker's weight but it was no use. The weight shifted to one side above him as an intrusive hand moved under his hips and wandered to the front of his water-soaked pants, quickly unbuttoning them with expert-like ease. It slipped back out from under him and the pressure shifted once more. This time, his legs became free as he felt the man push his legs apart and kneel between them. Clint started to move a leg but was quickly corrected as Goose pulled it back hard. He was in a world of darkness. He thought how any other time, he'd be fighting like there was no tomorrow. But he could barely stay conscious, even now. It seemed like something had stolen all his strength and energy from him. Even the impending danger that surrounded him couldn't keep him from just lying there as his brain shouted at him to fight or run. He couldn't do neither; he was trapped. His mind started to wander off somewhere, in hopes he wouldn't feel what was bound to happen. The dirty-white of the bottom of the shower turned to black as his eyelids fell. It seemed as though he'd been lying there for hours, but it had been less than a minute since he first awoke. He opened his eyes just in time to feel his pants being pulled down to his ankles. Time still seemed to drag on, though in reality everything was moving swiftly.

Clint thought he heard Goose mumble something behind him, but couldn't make it out, and didn't care to. His head was spinning, and he wished he would go unconscious again. It seemed he wasn't so lucky. The warmth grew nearer to his exposed self and he soon felt it. It was done roughly and without any care at all. A surge of adrenaline passed through the younger man as he lifted his head and cried out, [arms frantically moving to push himself up. The thrusting behind him stopped shortly as his already-sore neck was grabbed and he was pushed down. The heavy hand moved to his shoulder blade and held it's pressure there as the movements started again. Clint could feel warm liquid wetting his thighs and knew it was blood. It streamed down his skin until it met with the shallow blanket of water still covering the stall floor. It diluted with the cool water, and slowly spread. Angry grunts, and the occasional chuckle could be heard behind him, as much as he tried to block them out. Nothing could spare him the screaming pain that shot through him, though. It seemed to go on forever, he had no sense of time. The pain even followed him through his tightly-closed eyes, showing bright red on the back of his eyelids. His stomach lurched, and he feared he would throw up right there. His whole body trembled. Eventually, after what seemed to be a lifetime to Barton, it was over. But even then, he felt no relief from the pain; it was as if it were still happening. The pressure lifted off his body, but he could only lie there as muscles occasionally twitched. Even if he had the energy and will to get up, he'd only fall back down. The man's whole body was in shock as he still bled. His eyes stung a burning red, face stained with tears. He swallowed shakily and let out a breath.

_At least it is over...finally over... _That was where he was wrong. He had heard Goose move away but now he heard some muffled talking near the front of the room. Another sounding of footsteps moved towards him. This time they were different, though. The steps were closer together, and light-footed. The same process was in store, he knew. And even still, there would be one more time after it was over; once for all three. Well, he could only hope it would only be once a piece. And that was if he didn't die before it ended. He could just _feel_ the man smirk as he was descended upon by him. Once again, all Clint could do was hope he would slip back into unconsciousness.

[**A/N: **_Hope you enjoyed it. Took a bit longer as i've been quite without time lately. Hopefully it'll tide you over a while._]


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